Ghost, God, Man
by Veleda
Summary: Jezebel is just foolish enough to lie to himself, and just wise enough to know that he's lying. Alexis/Jezebel. Spoilers for Seal of the Red Ram.


The sound of the whip had resounded through the nearly empty chamber, a dull, hollow echo following each strike. The blows had been evenly timed and placed to ensure maximum torment. The pain was still fresh, the wounds just beginning to scab.

Coagulation, Jezebel thought. The scabs form in order to halt the bleeding. If not for coagulation, the tiniest cut could be fatal.

Jezebel smiled darkly. No amount of coagulation could have saved the carcass in front of him. Evisceration tended to be fatal. He carefully removed the heart and stared at it lovingly. Not particularly large, not particularly impressive looking, yet without it the body could not continue to function. He laid it on the table gently and made a long careful incision.

Meridiana had been too delicate and had required too much time and attention. His next deadly doll would be able to stand more punishment. He just needed to do more research. The next doll would be better,_ he_ would be better, and then his father... then his father would finally be proud of him. He just had to do a little more research.

Jezebel worked hard to make his father proud of him because he was the good son, the dutiful son. I'll never betray Father, he thought, not like Cain. And surely, someday, Father will realize that I'm the one who's always been there for him.

It was frightening, the ease with which he lied to himself. Such transparent lies.

Jezebel tensed when he heard the sound of footsteps. He knew those footsteps. A thousand years could pass, the world could crumble to dust and ash, haunted only by anguished ghosts, and still Jezebel would know those footsteps, that shadow, and that presence as well as he knew his own self.

"Hello, Father," he said softly.

Alexis stepped out of the shadows and into the dim light of Jezebel's laboratory. "Hello, Jezebel. Hard at work, I see."

Every muscle in Jezebel's body tensed. The wounds on his back burned fiercely. "Yes, Father," he answered stiffly.

Alexis came forward and put his hand on Jezebel's shoulder. The pressure aggravated his wounds, but Jezebel forced himself not to react. He didn't want to give his father the satisfaction.

Alexis leaned in to whisper in Jezebel's ear. "So stoic. I know that it must hurt terribly. If only you weren't so disobedient. Then, I wouldn't have to punish you."

"I'm sure that you'd find a reason," Jezebel said.

Alexis chuckled. "What a naughty boy."

"Why are you here?" Jezebel's voice was ragged.

"Your experiment ended badly. Can't a father come and console his eldest son?"

Jezebel closed his eyes in pain at the emphasis on the word "eldest." Not the only son, not the favored son, and not the beloved son. Cain was the only person that his father really cared about. Jezebel was simply a way to pass the time.

Alexis wrapped his arms around Jezebel. "You bore your punishment very well. You were very good."

The words shouldn't have meant anything. It shouldn't have mattered. Still, the tiny scrap of praise warmed Jezebel more than anything else ever could. He leaned against his father, ignoring the pain, and sighed as he was pulled closer. Alexis was silent as he slid one hand up Jezebel's shirt, while his other hand moved to caress Jezebel's throat.

It was so good to have his father's attention. To know that his father was looking only at him. But even now, was it truly him that his father was seeing? Jezebel swallowed hard. "Did you do this with Cain?"

Alexis stopped. "What do you want me to say?" His grip on Jezebel's throat tightened ever so slightly. "Would you like me to tell you no? Do you want to hear that you're special? That this is something just for you? Is that what you want me to tell you?"

Jezebel closed his eyes tightly and was silent for a long moment. At last, he whispered, "Yes."

Alexis paused, then pulled away. "I'm sure that I've distracted you from your work long enough."

Jezebel didn't turn around, didn't watch his father disappear into the shadows. Slowly he wrapped his arms around himself. For a few moments he he just stood there, completely still. Then, finally, he turned his attention to the corpse on the table, picked up a scalpel, and returned to work, making long, slow cuts in the dark red flesh.


End file.
